Windchimes

#bipolardispatches

I have no real advice other than rest. The ancestors informed me that 2019 will take all that we have. Sleep, eat, be merry.

—-

In August, we went back to South Korea and we saw Secretary Lee. She was free this time and we shared a meal with her. It was a delight to see her no longer in jail and we had a wonderful time together. Amazingly, she gave TiffanyApril, and I presents: a windchime.

There’s little I haven’t received lessons on this year but the one I’m taking into 2019 is definitely my favorite:

Real solidarity is hard as fuck, will cost you so much you’ll wonder at times why you did it in the first place, and yet is worth so much more than what you will ever pay.

Seeking it will demand that people will tell you they care about your work and respect you for doing what you are doing, only to turn around and call you a fool behind your back to gain status with others. The number of people that do this will surprise you and, over time, you’ll discover just how little that it has to do with you.

It will mean intense pain that is sometimes physical and more often than not, unrecognized.

It will mean that some friends will become bitter enemies that question your motives, tear you down when you are already suffering, and – when the hardship has passed – will ask you for help because this world is cold and hard right now on everyone.

But it’s not without striking, luminescent beauty.

Real solidarity will light up the sky. It will give you incredible insight into yourself with that light.

It will bring you new friends that turn into family so quickly that you can’t believe you haven’t known each other since birth.

It will destroy all monsters, real and imagined. Foreign and domestic. Democrat, Republican, Nazi, Decepticon.

It will connect your soul to elder Gods that have twisted their names into Gaia’s hair and keep you out of the fire.

It will leave you breathless and breathe life into your lungs at the same time.

It is the wind and we don’t need ears to hear what we can feel. But wind chimes are nice and we would do well to let them ring no matter how hard the wind is blowing.

We need this connection to each other that, as a root word, actually means linked by destiny or people whose fates are shared.

No wind, no air, no life. The Cape of Storms left that one with me too. I’ll listen and set sail. My beginnings are waiting for me, as are yours.

—-

This is the last of these long form until 2019. Thanks for being a part of this. I had this group I was making but Facebook seems like a thing folks want to abandon. Thinking I’ll focus more on the website and other projects.

Elegba

#bipolardispatches

Today, I went to the end of the world.

The drive to the Cape of Good Hope was about an hour and a half. We went from highways that reminded me of Baltimore or Miami to, quite quickly, another place. We passed through a centuries old port town named after a mixed race governor. It’s main attraction? A penguin colony that lives on a stretch of beach.

As we got closer to our final destination, the world started to drift away. My cell signal disappeared, only to reappear as we go to the nature preserve that holds Cape Point. Alex, driver and adventurer for the day, gasped as we entered and let me know that even though he’s lived in the Eastern Cape his whole life he’s never been here before.

Once inside the preserve, I got tunnel vision. I didn’t want to be anywhere but the Cape. We could smell the sea air as we passed over a crescent of land with a lone road. The high cliffs on my left held beaches like ones I think I’ve seen in my dreams.

After a long winding drive, we reached the literal end. There were tourists there clowning around but Alex and I just took a moment. I sat and listened to the crosswind, remembering that this place was famous for sailors. It’s original name was the Cape of Storms and was the home of the Flying Dutchman legend. It was the point where you were gonna be headed East instead of South, a sure relief for anyone who has been going South for so long. Keep going South? Antarctica. Lol 🇦🇶

It was gorgeous but also old. It felt like a place to leave things so I left some thoughts and emotions there. When I did so, I was met by the oldest voice I’ve ever heard. It sounded like it knew me and was welcoming me home.

A wanderer God’s voice. A sailor’s guide.

It told me things –

1. This year has been the hardest year of your life so far but it hasn’t been the hardest yet. That one is coming. When it does, be prepared for the kind of grief that tears everything apart.

2. You need to be a better steward of all resources given to you. You hurt yourself better than anyone.

3. Don’t fight the feeling that you are not done yet with what you are working on. It’s not done.

4. Justice, your teacher, needs you around. Stop making that so hard.

5. You were meant to wander and you DEFINITELY did that this year, but not all exploration requires what this has been. Feel free to not repeat it.

I was then urged to take stones, leave a prayer and promise to return. I did so then asked Alex if we could head to the airport. He agreed and as we left, a single baboon a ways away turned to look at us and disappeared into rocky distances. I laughed, Alex looked at me puzzled and I took a deep breath.

Home soon.